


Das Vorspiel

by lokilickedme



Series: Chemical Prehistories [10]
Category: Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Inspired by Photography, Power Dynamics, Prostitution, References to the Chemical Prehistories, Rough Sex, Sex with a stranger, Tom Hiddleston Interview Magazine Photo Shoot, Unresolved Emotional Tension, direct link to the Chemical universe (CTU)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-08-27 08:07:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8393785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lokilickedme/pseuds/lokilickedme
Summary: Sometimes you just need a stranger to tell you it's okay.  Traveling abroad for business, a woman with emotional baggage to unpack finally finds a face just familiar enough to convince herself - for a few short hours - that the love she walked away from can finally forgive her.  But can she forgive herself?  And more importantly...SHOULD she?
Inspired by the October 2016 Interview Magazine photoshoot of Tom Hiddleston (you know the one)
This story links into the Chemical universe and is technically one of the prehistories - set between the events of TAOS and GIRLY, after PENUMBRALUNA and before the beginning chapter of CHEMICAL.





	

 

 

 

 

 

They say the most enduring love is the one you don't get to keep, the one that can never be replaced by anything else, no matter how far you go to find something, _anything,_ to fill the void left inside you when it leaves.

Or maybe she was just making that up to make herself feel worse.

But one thing she knew for certain...she'd gone pretty damn far this time, and the face she'd just glimpsed across the dark noisy room was perilously close to the one she didn't get to keep.

_Close enough._

 

 

She'd asked for him personally, requested him - no, what she'd done was more like a _demand,_ an almost angry statement of expectation that left very little room for the clerk behind the foggy glass partition to refuse her.  The wad of money she'd pushed through the little hole went further than her tone toward getting her wish fulfilled.

_Always throw money at it, watch your foe's face go from difficult to accommodating._

"Ich glaube nicht, dass sie verstehen - "

Her basic knowledge of German kicked in and she knew what he was saying. _I don't think you understand._  She shook her head, not willing to accept no for an answer, not caring what it was that she didn't understand.  She shoved more money through the hole, watched the clerk's eyes widen briefly before he gave her a pleading look.

_"Er ist der Boss!"_

She stared for a moment, mulling the words over in her head, wondering just how far she was willing to push this to get what she wanted.

_He's the boss._

After several long moments, she pulled out more cash.

"I don't care.   _I want_ _him."_  

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

 

"What is your desire?"

"I don't know."

"Shall we start with something...simple...then?"

His thick accent was clipped but silky;  she'd never found German to be the most seductive of inflections but the man's voice was rich and bourbony, and his emotionless expression put her at sudden ease.  She'd been right about him, and now that she was this close to him she could see the resemblance much more clearly.  She watched as he slipped the long black leather coat off his shoulders, laying it neatly over the back of the chair across from her.

"Simple will do."

The corner of his mouth twitched, just barely enough to notice.  He wasn't used to his authority being met with similar strength, especially not from the clientele.  It took only a moment for him to recognize the woman for what she was, as his heated blue eyes moved quickly over her - she was as much a boss as he was, though her manner of dress put her in an obviously different line of work.

_Business chic.  High class, well bred, enormously wealthy and no doubt powerful._  She wouldn't cower before his crop.  But just as her pedigree was obvious to his keen gaze, so was her purpose for being there.  She wasn't interested in his dominance or his brutality, though she might well submit to both later.

No, she had a very specific reason for sitting in this room, staring at him with clear eyes and a cool, blank face.  And it had very little to do with sex.

He found it intriguing.

"Tell me first, why did you choose me?  Of all the pretty young boys we have out there..."

"You remind me of someone."

He grinned, though it was closer to a smirk and the predatory edge seemed almost shark like as he tilted his head, his curiosity piqued.

"Oh?  Who would that be?"

The woman looked at him, at his handsome face, weathered with adulthood and etched with memories that were probably better left in the dark, and wondered if the young man she remembered would look like this when he was older.

"The grown up version of a boy I once knew."

 

 

Her eyes followed his hands as he pulled his gloves on, the movements of his fingers sensual and elegant but undeniably strong.  He moved slowly, his own eyes watching her carefully.  He knew the type.  High stress, high strung, needing to unwind before the inevitable breakdown.  But there was something surprisingly calm in this one, in the coolly appraising way she observed him.  It was as if she was waiting for him to do...nothing.

He tugged the thighs of his tight leather pants upward as he sat down across from her, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, fiery eyes locked unrelentingly to hers.

"And what is your sin that you seek punishment for?"

Her expression changed for the first time since he'd entered the room.

"What makes you think I've sinned?"

A wide smile brightened his face and in that moment she saw all the years of this man's life, every crease and line a memory or experience that he bore no shame in revealing.  He was much older than the boys she'd seen in the main room, but there was no doubt in her estimation that he was far more beautiful now than he'd been as a younger man. _It's the miles, not the mileage._

"You wear it.  You wear it well, but you do wear it."

She wasn't sure if she should be insulted or complimented.  There was nothing in his eyes to indicate either way.

"I taught a young boy how to service men."

"Interesting."  He sat back, long gloved fingers toying absently with a buckle on his boot, a motion she found oddly erotic.  "Why would you do such a thing?"

"I thought it was the only way he would survive."

"Was there no alternative?"

"There was."

He narrowed his eyes.

"And you regret the road not taken."

"Yes."   _I could have taken him home with me.  Let him raise his child with me.  Given him a good life._  "I do regret it."

He nodded, pursing his thin lips into a contemplative pout as he stared at her.

"And how is it I can help you with this... _regret?"_

She thought for a long moment.  She hadn't really given it much thought - getting him into the room alone with her was about as far as her conscious planning had gone.  She'd really just wanted to be near enough to him to satisfy her need to see that boy one more time, to see his eyes elsewhere besides in the tiny face of his baby daughter.  And now that she had him here, she wasn't entirely sure what to do with him.

"I'm...I'm not sure..."

He stood, sleek and catlike in his movements, slowly circling where she sat until he was behind her, one gloved hand ghosting lightly across the nape of her neck.  She closed her eyes as he bent to put his lips near her ear.

"Do you wish me to soothe it with a sweet salve...or burn it away with fire?"

The shiver that scurried down her spine settled somewhere in the general region of her lap and she felt a damp warmth, both on the back of her neck where his breath was tickling her bare flesh, and somewhere deep between her legs.  Her own breath caught in her throat and in that moment her control, her authority, her conscious will to own her actions, all left her and she let her head fall back, her lips brushing against his stubbly cheek as her voice, unwavering, stated her wishes with the final bit of resolve she had left in her. 

_"Burn it."_

 

 

No sooner had the words left her lips than he had her face down on the little table, pinning her with his legs against her bottom.  It was so quick that she didn't react until he drew his hand back, pulling her head up to make her watch in the mirrored wall.  "Did you hurt that boy?"

The question shocked her and she saw her mouth fall open in her reflection.  But her eyes were on him, on his face, and she realized she was frantically shaking her head.   _"No...no..."_

"Then why do you carry such guilt?"  The hand came down slowly and snaked its way to her throat, squeezing gently, long fingers wrapping around her windpipe with increasing pressure until she felt her breath constricting.

_"No...I...I..."_

He squeezed harder, holding her still with his body against her back.  "Then _why?"_

_"I saved him!"_

The words came out in a strangled half scream and the hand around her throat instantly loosened.  She felt him move away from her and her stomach suddenly lurched, feeling sick and unsettled;  she pressed her forehead to the cool table and gulped down several swallows of air to calm herself. _Fuck, why didn't I keep you..._

He sat down again, in her chair this time, his fingers tapping on his thighs as he watched her stand and straighten her clothing.  She recovered quickly and there was a deep stuttering intake of breath as her nerves resettled.

"What is your name?"

She looked at him in the mirror for a long while, her eyes raking over him in search of something, anything, that would destroy the illusion and allow her to walk away.  But all she saw was the boy, grown and matured and very much alive, sitting there watching her.

"Alicia."

 

 

She didn't ask his name.  It would be easy enough to acquire it on her way out;  she didn't need to hear it from him.  She didn't _want_ to hear it from him...because the moment he said anything other than _his_ name it would all end, and she wasn't ready to say goodbye yet.

"Alicia.  Good.  And what sort of a woman are you, Alicia?"

The defiant tilt to her chin made him stifle a laugh - _she thinks she's the boss here._  He spread his knees a little further, letting one hand dangle near his crotch, amusement lighting his eyes when he saw her gaze drop to it.  But her distraction was short lived and her eyes came right back to his.

"I'm my own sort of woman."

There was a long moment of electric silence as the two stared at one another, neither willing or able to step down to a less dominant position, two apex Alphas claiming the same bit of territory and realizing, with no small amount of trepidation, that there can be only one.

"Well then," he said quietly, standing slowly.  "You should remove that fine dress, Alicia.  I would hate to spoil such a lovely thing." 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

 

Her face was against the wall, not caring how many faces had pushed against this very spot before hers.  The man had just pulled out of her and moved back and she heard a cold metallic _clink -_ there was no doubt in her mind that he was about to manacle her, but she no longer cared.  He'd blindfolded her and all she wanted was to look at him again, to see those big soulful eyes and imagine again that they were his.  The color wasn't quite right but it was close enough...everything about him was close enough...

There was a chilly touch of metal against the sensitive flesh of her inner wrists and her arms were stretched up over her head, another _clink_ announcing that she was at his mercy now.  She'd fought him, held her own dominance, refused to let him take dominion over her, until the moment he'd closed his eyes and she'd seen the bliss in his face as he'd slipped into her.  It was so unbearably like _him_ that she'd stopped resisting and gone limp.

But his eyes had opened again, and the softness was gone as quickly as it had come.

"Are you ready to do your penance, Alicia?"

 

 

His hands trailed over her breasts, the soft leather of his gloves strangely warm and intensely arousing as they slid over her nipples.  His mouth was already further down her body, biting and sucking at her bellybutton and hipbones, and when he turned his hands over to rub the exposed backs of them over her breasts, a loud groan escaped her throat.  She could feel him laughing silently against her belly as he slid lower, his mouth seeking warmer, wetter places, and she pulled halfheartedly against her restraints.

The man's hands left her breasts and moved to her thighs, spreading her to his hungry mouth as he muttered in a low, silky voice against her unbearably heated vulva... _unterwirf dich mir..._

She knew what the words meant.  He wasn't asking...he was telling.

_Submit to me._

Biting back a groan, she stood on her tiptoes to clench her muscles against him, the final act of defiance against a worthy and unbeatable foe.  But his invading finger, still gloved in leather, stole her resolve and her balance as his warm tongue began lapping at her clit, taking away everything else she had left.

 

 

Time lost its meaning there in that dimly lit room, nothing but the slowly edging soreness of her body reminding her that the clock was still moving forward.  But in her head it had gone back, back to three years ago, to a posh hotel room in Taos where a beautiful black haired boy had looked at her with turquoise eyes and apologized for his stomach growling.  Where that same boy had asked her permission to do the things she'd just instructed him to do.   The boy that had stood in the doorway watching her leave, never closing the door until she was gone.

In _this_ room he was with her again, a grown man now, his touch more authoritative, his need more urgent but far more controlled.  In this room she fucked the man that the boy might one day become, if he survived.

And in doing so, she absolved herself of the guilt of sending him out into the world to make it on his own.

_"Burn it,"_ she moaned. _"Burn it to ash."_   

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

 

His lips moved slowly down the back of her neck as her body trembled with the aftershocks of her climax, kissing hotly along her spine till they reached her shoulder blades;  he stopped there to lay his head against her back, to breathe against her skin, a tender gesture whose softness found its way into his harsh words.   _"I don't forgive you,"_   he murmured against her ear, listening to the little sob that escaped her throat.  It was a deeply pained sound and he left a kiss where his lips lay against her skin.

"Why...?"

This pleading whisper, this broken quiet cry was the first sign of weakness he'd seen in her and he gripped her hair in his fist, pulling her head back slowly to make her look at herself in the mirrored wall.

"Because my forgiveness... _his_ forgiveness...isn't what you need."

A sob burst from her throat, a racking painful sound that shook her body beneath him as her voice dropped to an agonized whisper.  "What do I need?"

Releasing his grip, he moved off of her, watching a single tear squeeze from the corner of her eye as he stepped back, leaving her staring into her own reflection's face.

"Deine eigenes," he said quietly.   _"Your own."_  

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

 

"I think you taught this young boy to service men because you couldn't bear the thought of him with another woman."  There was a hint of amusement in his voice, but it did nothing to soften the accusation of fact.

"That's not true."

"Is it not?"

She sat down to pull her shoes on, not looking at him.  "No."

_Yes.  Maybe._

"That scar.  Is it all you have of him?"

She thought hurriedly of her child, of _his_ child, all black hair and big blue eyes and sweet disposition like her father.  She nodded.  This man might bear a strong resemblance to him, but there was nothing more he needed to know.

"Yes."

Rubbing at the mark over her left breast, the woman let the faraway look sit painfully in her gaze for just a moment before she tugged her blouse shut, buttoning it.  The scar was a constant reminder of him, the only way she could see him now, a summoning of sorts;  every time she undressed and looked in the mirror at herself, her eyes went to the mark where his teeth had pierced her flesh.  Their passion had burned so hot for that one moment that the boy had bitten her, marking her, a searing brand of ownership that burned his name into her soul forever.

_Tommy._

It was both tragic and appropriate that the mark was over her heart.

 

 

The man followed at a distance as she left, stopping at the bar to watch her as she gathered her coat and purse from the clerk.  He wasn't in the habit of catering to ordinary guests...but this woman was far from ordinary, and as she exited without a backward glance, he reached behind the bar to pick up the house phone.

"Klaus, put Ms. Olivetti on my approved guest list please.  VIP."  His eyes narrowed as he watched the heavy doors fall shut behind her, shutting out the sudden blast of street noise that even the club's loud music couldn't override.  "I have a feeling she'll be back."

 

 

 

_~das Ende~_

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Photo property of Steven Klein, Interview Magazine, October 2016


End file.
